


Christmas Makes Everything Twice As Sad

by depthsofmysol



Series: The Journal of Arthur and Eames [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Christmas, Comfort, Family, Grief, Heartache, Love, M/M, Moving On, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depthsofmysol/pseuds/depthsofmysol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur hates Christmas. But not for the reasons everyone thinks. Eames just wants him to know that it's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Makes Everything Twice As Sad

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [aeholidaybang](http://aeholidaybang.tumblr.com) holi-daily bang challenge.

Arthur has always hated Christmas. But not in the same way everyone else does. He's not some sort of grinch or scrooge, and his childhood wasn't the sort that would have him running the opposite direction from the holiday. No, Arthur hated the holiday for one specific reason, something no one in the business knew as he'd worked very hard to bury all evidence of his previous life. Christmas, to him at least, meant spending time with family, with those you love. It meant sharing tales of ones life, of what had happened during the previous year, and planning for the future.

For Arthur it meant digging up the painful past he'd worked so hard to put behind him, meant dealing with what little family he had left and wondering how long before another argument silenced them for another few years. He _hated_ Christmas like other people hated dealing with their in-laws, or with other parts of their family. He hated the fact that his only family was his twin sister, a woman he hadn't spoken to since he left home to join the Army, a woman who had to deal with the loss of not only their parents but her own brother as well.

What he refused to do was feel guilty. This was his life, a choice he'd made almost a decade ago, and he absolutely refused to feel guilty for it. Arthur was good at his job, good at digging out the bits and pieces of a mark's life and making certain his team was thoroughly prepared for whatever job they were on. He was good at making certain his team made it out of the dream in one piece, or at least with as few problems as possible, and he took pride in the fact he was sought out by almost everyone in the business. Guilt had _no_ place in dream crime.

And yet this year he allowed the guilt that had been building up and building up to finally take hold, forcing him out of the apartment he and Eames shared in Chicago. Arthur hadn't given him any sort of reason, just that he needed to get out of the apartment, needed some time alone, and that he'd return in a few days. Eames hadn't asked him any questions, only if he wanted some company. They'd been officially together for two years, had only been living together for the past year, and yet the forger had somehow learned when to push and pry and when to leave well enough alone. If Arthur didn't already love him, he might have found himself doing so.

But that was neither here nor there. It had been two days since he'd told Eames he was leaving, and with Christmas right around the corner, a part of Arthur wished he'd taken up the other man's suggestion of company. Seattle was gripped with cold, and rain, and he was once again reminded as to why he left the city the first chance he could. Chicago wasn't much better, he mused, though at least it had Eames. Seattle had nothing more than memories, a life that could have been his had he not run at the first offer he'd been given, a life he'd turned his back on and never looked back.

Yet there he was, back in the city he loathed and wondered if returning had been a wise idea. Arthur had already tried driving out to the cemetery, deciding instead to drive across the sound when he'd made it halfway there. He'd never visited their graves, never even returned for the funeral, and never shed a single tear. All the emotions, the memories, the _feelings_ he'd locked away in the hopes that one day he'd forget all about them. He never thought that one day the guilt from doing just that would eat away at him to the point that it was either face it, or allow it to consume him.

Cobb was a prime example of someone he never wanted to be, someone who allowed guilt and grief to rule their life. Arthur only wished he could find the confidence he had on a job, when he was knee deep in research and redirect it to his attempts to visit his parents' graves. Failure wasn't an option as he'd come to town to finally face it, to deal with it, and to move on once and for all. When had he become such a coward?

Just the thought had him determined to make it out to the cemetery. He could do this, he told himself driving north from the city. This was nothing more than another job, albeit a very _personal_ one. Arthur had never shied away from a job before, and this wasn't going to be his first. As he grabbed his jacket from the bed, something to throw over the hooded sweatshirt and t-shirt he already had on, he reminded himself he was almost thirty years old, that he was an adult, and that it was time to face his past once and for all.

If only Eames were there, he mused as he once again drove north out of the city. Arthur hadn't ever told the forger about his past life, only hinting about bits and pieces of his life in the military. He'd never found a reason to share that part of his life with anyone, let alone someone he loved. It was his past, and wouldn't affect their future had been his reasons. He'd even gone so far as to make certain he was working when the Christmas holiday came upon them, all in the hopes that no one would ask why he wasn't celebrating it. Most of the time he could brush it off as not being religious, or some other sort of excuse.

This time Eames had demanded they not work on Christmas, that he wanted to celebrate it together, and had informed him of their plans to spend it at home in Chicago. Arthur couldn't be mad at him. Not when the man had no idea just why he refused to celebrate Christmas. Instead he did what he always did – packed it all away, and made an attempt to be happy. Only as the days passed, and the actual holiday grew closer and closer, he found himself unable to keep his feelings and thoughts packed away, and he didn't want to inadvertently take out his frustrations on Eames. Hence why he'd left.

Now more than ever he'd wished he'd accepted the offer of company. Especially as he drove into the cemetery. The rain seemed to have tapered off, and while he knew it was still cold outside, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to stand around in the rain. Arthur already felt odd enough, having never been to his parents graves before. Being by himself just allowed his thoughts to run wild, making him wonder just what sort of son he was. And for a brief moment he thought about just turning around and booking the first flight back to Chicago.

The guilt was what pushed him forward, what had him getting out of the car, and walking up the hillside towards the location he'd found with a little research. Once he reached the pair of headstones, Arthur wasn't even sure what he should say, or do. Did he apologize for just walking out that day, for turning his back on his family, for having taken so long to return? He honestly didn't know what he should do or say, and again he thought that maybe he should just leave. The sound of footsteps, though, had him rethinking that.

"How did you know I'd be here?" Arthur asked, having not even bothered to turn around. He knew who it was, and was grateful to have him there. Even if he'd not been invited.

"Rachel," Eames told him, cautiously walking up to Arthur. He knew he hadn't been invited, and knew that he was taking a risk. But it was something he felt he _had_ to do.

 _Rachel_. Of course it would be his _twin_ sister who'd given Eames an idea as to where Arthur was. She'd been the one who'd told him their parents were dead, and when he didn't bother showing up for the funeral, she'd been the one to tell him he was a heartless bastard and that he should have been there. It didn't surprise him one bit that she'd told Eames. Though he was curious as to _how_ the forger got in contact with her. At some point he was going to ask. If only to satisfy his own curiosity.

"She told me you might be here," Eames explained, placing his hand on Arthur's back, relieved when he felt the other man lean into it.

"Did she tell you that when I left for the army, my mother begged me not to go, that both her _and_ my father refused to talk to me?" He asked, still refusing to look Eames in the eye, "that when the army informed me my parents had died in a Christmas Eve fire, told me I could return home for their funeral, that I turned them down. Did she tell you _that_ , too?"

Arthur could feel all the anger and hurt and everything that he'd spent so much time burying bubble to the surface. His composure, the one thing that was uniquely him, was quickly slipping away, and with it came the first stray tears. He hadn't even cried when he found out his parents were dead, hadn't cried when Mal, someone he'd been even closer to, had died. Standing here, with Eames of all people, and he found himself crying.

Wiping them with the back of his hand, he didn't even bother to say anything. They were what they were, and it was just another sign that he was human. At least that's what he expected Eames to say if he'd actually said anything. Again the man knew just when to stay silent and allow him to say his peace.

"This is the first time I've visited," he confessed, "Probably makes me a horrible son, but I hated them for so long. And now – "

"Arthur," Eames sighed, dragging the man closer, wrapping his arms around him, "it's okay. It doesn't make you a bad son. You're here now, and that's what counts. You can't keep beating yourself up over this."

"All I wanted was for them to just accept my choices, and be proud," Arthur told him, ingoring the fact the tears were flowing again. If anyone had to see him like this he had to admit that Eames was the only one he could deal with. Of all the people he knew the forger was the one person who actually understood him, understood his need to just shut himself off from the world. And he was the one person he needed in that moment.

"I'm sure they were proud," Eames told him, tightening his grip around the man's waist, "even if they never told you."

Eventually Arthur composed himself once more, and found the courage to look at Eames, mouthing the words _thank you,_ knowing he'd be unable to actually say them. He was rewarded with a genuine smile in return, and lips pressed against his forehead, along with their hands twining together. It wasn't what he'd wanted when he intially came to Seattle, but having Eames here made being in the cemetery all the easier to deal with.

"By the way, I promised Rachel we'd stop by before leaving town," Eames told Arthur, making certain the other man wasn't about to bolt. He knew about the past, and how they'd not talked in years. But with it being Christmas he couldn't just let them go another year like they had. They were the only family each other had, and it was time for _both_ of them to realize it.


End file.
